


Hawke & The Hero

by RunawayDragons



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - Various Authors, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:28:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26351911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunawayDragons/pseuds/RunawayDragons
Summary: **So I originally started writing this a decade ago, and even posted some of it here. But then a wicked batch of writer's block hit, and then life kicked me while I was down. Now, several major life events later, I got back into writing. I've been completely rewriting and working on completing this thing (as in I've already written way more than what was originally posted).**The Hero of Ferelden embarks on a secret mission to help a friend, and meets the Champion of Kirkwall, and enlists her help. This takes place sometime in 9:37 Dragon, aka in the third act of DA2, but before Anders turns the Chantry into a Kesha song. Please enjoy two of my favorite characters meeting and getting up to no good together (as well as some fluff and angst for flavor).
Relationships: Alistair & Female Warden (Dragon Age), Alistair/Female Surana (Dragon Age), Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age), Fenris (Dragon Age)/Original Character(s), Fenris/Female Hawke
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

_Lyn,_

_I need your help. Things are not as they should be. I know no one else to turn to. I pray that the Maker lets this note reach you._

_-Elsbeth_

Vaelyn Surana holds the small piece of parchment in her hand, reads it for the twentieth time and then starts pacing. Every time she comes to a wall she glances back down at the paper in her hand for a moment and then turns around, the fabric of her mage coat swishing with the emphasis of her movement, her eyes falling to her feet, mouth a taut line. 

“If you stare at that floor much harder it may just go up in flames.” says a voice tinted with humor.

Lyn looks up to discover Alistair giving her an amused look. She can’t help but smile at the surprisingly well dressed, and attractive, man leaning against the doorframe of her study. As the years had gone by he’d only become more attractive, the hints of grey at his temples making him look even more distinguished. Alistair had also made sure to never stop practicing his sword skills or doing drills, the result being he was possibly in even better physical shape than when they had fought the blight together. 

“You should know by now that I’m not big on flames, I prefer ice or lightning. I could put an ice patch right under your feet and watch you fall on your royal ass.” She replies.

Alistair’s golden brown eyes glint with mischief and humor, as he knows she won’t actually follow through with the threat. Lyn answers his expression with an eye roll of impatience. 

“I take it by all the frustration rolling off of you, that you still haven’t decided what to do about your friend’s letter?” He asks.

“Oh, I’ve decided. I just don’t know quite how I’m going to pull it off. I think I’m going to have to call in a lot of favors...”

“I’m sure you’ll pull it off in heroic style, as is usual for you.”

Lyn’s grey eyes flick away from the letter to check Alistair’s face, as she half thinks he is joking, but his expression tells her he means those words. His faith in her ability to resolve tense situations still never ceases to amaze her. There was so much on her plate these days, between the unrest in Orlais affecting trade in Amaranthine, her duties as Warden-Commander, as well as her constant struggle to help her fellow mages and the elvhen people. At least she had built up a great support network of reliable staff, a seneschal and senior counsel in Amaranthine, the senior wardens along with Varel and Woolsey at the Vigil, to keep both places running as they should. She’d learned to delegate, and it had freed up enough of her time that she didn’t always feel like she was drowning in a sea of her responsibilities anymore. But there was always something to be done, somewhere to be, and wouldn’t she be putting too many people at risk by going to help her old friend?

Alistair could see Lyn start to tense up again. He could practically see the wheels in her head whirring away at top speed. He knew she would be going to help her friend, even though it would most likely be dangerous, and she was clearly second guessing her choice. Lyn had changed a lot over the years, but her core values had stayed the same. That inner strength of character was something he had always admired about her, even though it quite often got her into some tight spots. He watches as she resumes her pacing, still occasionally glancing at the letter in her hands. 

Vaelyn continues to pace for a few more minutes and then halts in the middle of the room and throws her hands up in frustration. The sudden movement causing some of her hair to wisp out of the tight bun on the back of her head.

“No. You know what? I warned her. When the rumors started a few years ago and my sources told me that the conflict between the factions was getting dangerous I warned her. I told her to come back, that I would help her find a new position here. She’ll just have to lie in the bed she’s made. I’m not going to risk my neck for her, I have too much to do here.” Lyn says, clearly trying to convince herself.

**_“Right.”_ **

Alistair’s disbelieving tone makes her twitch self consciously and purposefully look away from him. He moves away from the wall and comes up behind her before grabbing her shoulders gently but firmly. His warm grasp makes her turn and face him, her cheeks flushed from her conflicted feelings of anger and worry (and the feeling of his hands on her, which she tries to ignore). Alistair levels one of his classic looks at her, one eyebrow quirked. She stares back at him defiantly for a few moments and then breaks down, letting loose a groan of frustration. 

“Alright, fine. I’m not going to abandon her. I’m going to go to Kirkwall with a small band of my people and go save her ass.”

“And why are you going to do that?” He prods, not letting her off the hook just yet. 

“Because she’s my friend and I know she needs my help.” Lyn admits. 

“That’s my dragoness. Feel better now?”

As his old pet name for her leaves his lips, he freezes, she looks up into his face and sees it, that glimpse of old heartache and the tempting thought of what could have been. They’d only recently regained their friendship, after Eamon had done his best to put as much space and tension between them in the time since the fifth blight had ended. 

Lyn smiles a little too quickly, and speaks, "Ah, yes. I feel absolutely thrilled to risk my neck in the Free Marches, thank you my liege, for your excellent guidance," to fill the awkward silence, while trying her best to ignore the twinge her heart had made as that name had left his lips.

Her words are drenched with forced humor, the smile on her lips not quite reaching her eyes. If Alistair notices, he doesn't give a sign, he just playfully bows before beating a hasty retreat to safer ground, clearly uncomfortable with his slip up. Lyn watches him leave, feeling a painful lump in her chest, regret has never been an easy thing to live with, but it hasn't killed her yet.

Alone once more, Vaelyn lets her body slump, chin touching her chest as she glances once more at the note from Beth. The weight of all the could-have-beens bearing down on her already heavy mind.


	2. Chapter 2

“You know you still owe me five sovereigns, elf.” Varric hisses in Fenris’ direction.

“I’m good for it.” Fenris replies, eyes on the shadows, ready for an ambush.

“So you think you can win the coin from Isabela? Good luck with that.” Varric says with a snort.

Mera glances over her shoulder at her companions and stifles a sigh.

“I heard that, Hawke.”

“Heard what, Varric?”

“Oh please, you’re not fooling anyone.”

Mera turns to give Varric an annoyed glare but freezes instead, as her eyes catch sight of furtive movements in the shadows behind their little group. Oddly enough, whoever it is seems to be moving away from them. Intrigued, she stays still and focuses her senses on listening for anything that might be of interest. 

Fenris and Varric watch her, waiting to see what she wants to do. Mera just about decides that it’s nothing when Douglas’ hackles rise and he starts a low growl of warning. Knowing that her hound is sensitive to things she can’t sense, she wraps a hand around the staff on her back and glances at Fenris, who shrugs before speaking.

“More of the Reining Men, perhaps?” He suggests. 

“Perhaps.... Or it’s a parade!” She quips back, almost automatically.

A barely audible groan issues from the white haired elf in answer to Mera’s awful sarcasm. She gives him a saucy wink, then forges ahead, heading towards the lower parts of Kirkwall’s docks. The last two nights had been spent cleaning up the newest group of thugs trying to control the area. As Champion it is her job to protect the city, or so she tells herself, although most of the threat seems to come from within, rather than from without, these days.

As they get closer to the water, sounds of fighting can be heard. Varric takes Bianca out and gives Mera a nod that he’s ready, a glance at Fenris shows that he is as well. Mera takes a deep breath to center herself, then turns the corner, her magic ready and waiting. 

The sight of about twenty Reining Men attacking a party of four heavily armed fighters, and the largest mabari hound Mera has ever seen, greets her eyes. Their armor is of high quality, one fighter is obviously a dwarf, who wields a large axe while hollering a battlecry. She notices that another warrior fights with two blades, keeping the dwarf’s back covered while the last two fighters hang back using their bows to pick off the thugs on the edges, as well as those threatening to flank their comrades. 

Without further pause, Mera begins casting spells in order to assist these well armed strangers. Fenris roars his battle cry and charges into the fray with Douglas barking and running next to him. Just as Fenris begins slicing his massive weapon through two thugs, Varric starts firing Bianca. The dual wielding warrior fights back to back with their dwarven comrade, spinning, slicing and stabbing with practiced perfection. The grace of the warrior’s movements suggests that it's most likely an elf, granted that the fact that the warrior looks to be only about five foot four is also a bit of a giveaway.

The combined efforts of Mera’s party and that of the strangers quickly lays the band of Reining Men to waste. Mera can’t help but be impressed by the skill shown by the small band. As soon as the last foe drops, Mera steps forward and stops beside Fenris, who still holds his sword at the ready, clearly suspicious of these unknown fighters. The strange dwarf notes the elf’s threatening posture and keeps his axe raised, a hint of battle light still evident in his eyes visible inside his helm, the two archers and the mabari hound stand at the ready as well. Mera notes that they all seem to be keeping an eye on the warrior across from her, which tells her that they must be the one in command. 

“Stand down, there will be no more fighting for the moment.”

The voice is muffled by the heavy helm the warrior is wearing, but the command in it is nonetheless clear. The dwarf lowers his axe and gives a nod to the hound, who sits and begins to pant happily. Both of the archers un-nock their arrows and move back into the shadows. The warrior with the dual swords then steps forward and slowly sheaths their weapons. A gauntlet covered hand raises to lift the visor of the blood spattered helm. Mera is unsurprised to find herself staring into the steady gaze of a woman. Steel grey eyes framed by faint smile lines stare back at Mera’s own inquisitive blue ones. Remembering her reputation, Mera smiles and performs a dramatic bow, complete with hand flourish.

“Welcome to peaceful and stoic Kirkwall!” She says.

“Thank you, lovely people you have here.” The stranger replies.

Mera is surprised at the equally sarcastic reply from the woman, making her chuckle. Fenris relaxes slightly at the sound of her laughter and lowers his blade. The woman with the swords inspects Mera’s party with only the slightest bit of interest while Mera laughs, and seems completely unsurprised by Mera’s motley collection of companions. 

Mera steps forward and offers a hand in introduction, the woman extends her own to meet it. But before their hands meet she changes tactics and flings the arm out, lightning exploding from her fingertips. The blast streaks just to the right of Mera’s head, just barely missing her, the crackling energy making her hair stand on end. Instinct kicks in and Mera calls her magic forth to counter with a spell of her own but before she gets any further she hears a scream just behind her, and so she hesitates. The scream is quickly followed by the thud of a body falling to the ground. Mera glances over her shoulder, only to find a Reining Men assassin twitching as the last bits of life leaves his body. Realizing that the woman just saved her or one of her companions from being stabbed, Mera lets go of the spell on her fingertips. A glance to her left finds Fenris has his sword poised to strike, a look of extreme disgust on his face.

“ _Mage._ ”

The word slips from his lips loaded with loathing, but he says no more. Mera is rather shocked upon the revelation that the elven woman is a mage. Questions swirl around her head, the biggest one being: why would a mage fight with blades, and could she teach Mera? She can’t seem to hide her feelings of surprise and curiosity.

“Well I certainly didn’t see that coming..” Hawke says, breaking the tense silence. 

The woman raises her hands in a show of peace and gives a shrug of her shoulders, making sure to make eye contact with Fenris as she speaks.

“Yes I’m a mage, but would you prefer that your friend here got stabbed?” She asks him.

“It’s alright Fenris.” Mera reassures with her best calming tone.

Fenris gives her a questioning look before stepping back to lower his weapon once again. He may trust Mera, but that doesn’t mean he’s willing to give any other mage the benefit of the doubt.

“I think some introductions are in order.” Mera's words are framed as a request, but the weight behind them makes it clear that it’s more of a command. 

The woman gives Mera an assessing look and then sighs before she pulls the helm from her head, shaking her hair loose once it is free. Brown hair tied back at the temples falls to her shoulders and even though she looks not all that much older than Mera, she has hints of grey mixed in with the brown. Mera can’t help but do a mental shout of triumph when she sees the woman’s elven ears, proud her assessment was correct. The warrior-mage ties her helm to a leather thong hanging at her waist before turning her attention back to Mera.

“I’ll happily tell you my name once we’re somewhere less open. I’m here to help a friend and I’d hate for the wrong people to know I’ve arrived, just yet.” 

“Alright, just answer one question first. How does a mage learn how to fight with swords like that?” Mera replies.

The elven woman gives Mera a quick smile and shrugs again before answering.

“Oh I picked up a few things here and there.” Her gray eyes twinkling as she answers. 

“Wow Hawke, I think we just met your match in the art of evading the question.” Varric interjects, tone full of amusement.

“Just for that Varric, we’re using your room at The Hanged Man to talk and everything is going on your tab.” Mera retorts.

Varric shrugs and starts walking. Mera gestures for the elven woman and the rest of her party to follow Varric towards the stairs up to Lowtown. The only two who seem oblivious to the slight tension in the air are the hounds, who seem to have already struck up a friendship.


	3. Chapter 3

Once settled in Varric's room, Mera leans against the wall and studies the newcomers. The elven woman cleans her blades with great care, using a rag obtained from one of the serving women. One blade is curved with a blue leather wrapped hilt. From across the room Mera can feel that it’s not a normal blade, it seems to radiate magic. The other blade is made of silverite and seems somewhat unremarkable but the woman treats it as if it is priceless. The pair of archers stand immobile against the back wall, and now that Mera can get a better look at them she’s intrigued. One is female and the other male. The female is slightly taller than the male, but the male has dalish tattoos on his face. Both wear high quality drakescale armor, and dark grey cloaks. Once Varric comes back into the room and shuts the door behind him, Mera steps away from the wall before addressing their guests.

“Alright, Varric’s made sure there are no prying ears outside the door. How about those introductions now?”

The woman raises her eyebrows and gives Mera a look of genuine amusement. She finishes wiping her blade clean, taking her time doing so, before answering.

“My name is Vaelyn. The dwarf is my good friend Oghren. The other two are Alburt and Arithra. And then there is Dane, of course.” She answers, gesturing toward each of her party as she makes their introductions.

Each of Vaelyn’s companions gives a curt but polite nod as they are introduced. At the mention of his name, the massive hound barks happily and wags his little tail. Mera can’t help but be impressed by the huge mabari who seems to be about twice the size of Douglas. 

“As I mentioned before, I’m here to help a friend. Now then, if you don’t mind, I’d like to know your names.”

A friendly smile graces the elf’s lips but her eyes are cold and hard, making it clear that she will not be divulging any more information until she receives some in return. Mera has the distinct impression that this woman is force to be reckoned with. The feeling in her gut telling her she is glad that they aren’t enemies. 

“I’m Mera but most people call me Hawke. My dwarven friend is Varric. Fenris is the scowling one with the huge sword, and Douglas is my hound. Lovely to meet you, Vaelyn.” Shes says, laying on a bit of her well known charm.

“Wait a sodding minute. You’re Hawke? I thought you were supposed to be blond and have fire coming out of your ears!” Oghren interjects, clearly surprised.

Mera is completely caught off guard by the red haired dwarf’s outburst. Before she can answer however, the door opens loudly and Isabela strides in with a pitcher of ale in one hand, a bunch of mugs in the other, and a look of completely unconvincing innocence on her face. She kicks the door shut behind her and makes her way over to the table with her best saucy sway. 

“I thought you might want a drink Hawke... Oh, you have company, I didn’t know...” Says the pirate, feigning surprise. 

Mera tries to give Isabela a stern look but ends up just shaking her head in resignation. 

“Stowe it Rivaini, nobody is going to believe that act. Just bring that over here and hand me a mug.” Varrics says.

Isabela chuckles and does as Varric asks. Mera is certain that the pirate’s curiosity had gotten the better of her once again. Just as she puts the pitcher down in the center of the table Isabela gets a good look at the woman sitting across from where she’s standing. Vaelyn meets Isabela’s gaze with a slight smile, then gives the pirate a wink. 

“Oh!” Isabela says, genuinely surprised this time.

“I see you survived fleeing the blight. Good for you, Isabela.” 

Mera can’t help but feel her own surprise that Vaelyn seems to know her pirate friend. She just stands there, shocked for a moment, waiting for her tired brain to start functioning again. Isabela seems to know a lot of people, so Mera’s not sure why she’s so surprised. Varric is at full attention now, ready to mentally record everything. Isabela sits herself on the edge of the table and gives Vaelyn one of her best charming smiles.

“Thanks, things got a bit sticky for a bit, but I managed. Lost my ship but that’s how things go.” Isabela answers.

“Sorry about your ship, I know how important she was to you. You seem to be keeping decent company these days.” Vaelyn's condolences are genuine, which seems to touch Isabela. 

“They’re not a bad lot once you get to know them. Ooh, you still with that delicious blond? I’ve always thought we could have had a whole bunch of fun that night at The Pearl.” The pirate inquires.

“Ha! I’d almost forgotten about that. I’ve never liked sharing my favorite toys, sorry Isabela. As for the blond, things became rather complicated. We're still friends though.” Vaelyn replies.

Vaelyn and Isabela continue to exchange pleasant small talk for a few minutes, completely at ease with each other. The only one who doesn’t seem surprised by their easy banter is Oghren, who is instead very engrossed in the ale Isabela had brought. Varric at first stays relaxed in his chair but as their conversation continues he begins leaning forward, listening with growing intensity to every word that Vaelyn shares with Isabela. It’s when they start talking about an Antivian assassin that his patience breaks. 

“Alright, I’ve had enough! You know Isabella and you’ve heard of Hawke. You’re obviously somebody with some clout, because you got into the city at night without being noticed by the city guard or the templars. So you clearly have enough connections to have people look the other way. I have my suspicions, but I’d still like some answers.”

Isabela chuckles at Varric and hands him a mug of ale before teasing, “Poor Varric, he cannot stand not being the most informed person in the room.” 

Vaelyn smiles at Isabela, then turns her attention to the inquisitive dwarf at the head of the table.

“I’m afraid that I can’t reveal my contacts, my apologies, Varric, was it? I met Isabella in Denerim during the blight. She was actually one of the people who started me on the path of dual wielding. And as for knowing who Hawke is, she helped out a friend of mine once so I made sure I didn’t forget her name. Although I suppose most people call her Champion these days.”

Something niggles at the back of Mera’s brain while Vaelyn speaks. It takes her a few minutes to figure out what it is, but once she finally does, everything starts to make sense. She steps away from the wall and takes the seat across from Vaelyn and studies the woman carefully, noting everything she’d noticed earlier as well as a few more small details. 

“You’re the Hero of Ferelden. The legendary Warden-Commander of Ferelden.” Mera says, keeping her voice quiet. 

Oghren lets out an amused snort of approval, confirming the Champion’s statement without saying a word.

Vaelyn smiles at her friend, before returning her gaze to Mera, a twinkle of approval in her eyes.

“Yes, as my dwarven companion has now given away, you are correct in your conclusions.”

“Well, shit.” Varric utters, he’d had a suspicion and a feeling, but having confirmation that a figure of such storied significance is sitting at his table is another thing entirely. 

“I’d appreciate it if my being here was kept a secret for now, I rather not lose my element of surprise just yet.”

Mera gives Varric her best “calm the fuck down” look and waits until he’s visibly more restrained to say anything.

“No problem. So why the big secret?” says Mera.

“Because, unless I’ve been incorrectly informed, there is some tension regarding the relationship between the mages and templars in this city.” replies Vaelyn.

“That’s a bit of an understatement. So I take it your business has something to do with either the templars or the mages? Or perhaps both?” 

“You could say that, yes. A dear friend of mine, who is a mage, sent me a letter requesting my help. She’s never been one to ask for my aid unless things are serious...”

At the warden’s mention of another mage, Mera can feel Fenris tense behind her. Everything these days seems to boil down to something to do with either the templars or the mages. Mera had tried to stay out of it by staying neutral, but it was getting harder and harder not to pick sides. It didn’t help that Grand Cleric Elthina was doing her best not to be involved, which left Mera in charge of keeping the peace between the Knight-Commander and the First Enchanter. Not a comfortable position for an apostate mage to be in, especially one with other apostates in her immediate circle, and a templar brother who already had a strained relationship with her. 

“I hate to have to ask this, but is your friend a bloodmage by any chance?” Mera asks, immediately hating herself, but trying to keep herself from getting involved in anything too dangerous.

Mera is happy to note that Vaelyn seems honestly surprised by the question, but nonetheless she doesn’t hesitate to answer. 

“No, she is not a bloodmage. Blood Magic goes against everything Beth believes in. She’s a healer and creation spell specialist. Much better at defensive spells rather than offensive. I take it that bloodmages are a problem in Kirkwall?”

“Well, unfortunately, some have turned to blood magic in desperation, and it’s not reflecting well on the rest of the mages in the circle here. It’s a complete mess, it’s as if this city attracts them.” Mera answers, frustration evident. 

Varric cuts in, “Blondie might know who to talk to in order to help her friend, Hawke.”

“Who’s Blondie?” Vaelyn asks, her gaze quickly turning back to Mera. 

“A friend of mine who is usually very willing to help mages in need, which is why Varric mentioned him. We can go talk to him tomorrow, but I’d recommend letting me do the talking, as he can get a bit tetchy around new people. He has some unusual... uh, quirks.”

Vaelyn nods in understanding, and stays silent for a minute before trying to hide a small yawn. Mera realizes that it must be almost three o’ clock in the morning, and that Vaelyn must be even more tired than she is. Her mother would have been ashamed of her for keeping up someone as important as Vaelyn, let alone any guest, after traveling all this way.

“Maker! Please excuse me for keeping you talking, you must be exhausted! I’m sure you want to get some sleep.”

“Yes, if you don’t mind, a bed would be lovely. Do you think they might have accommodations here, for my companions and I?” Vaelyn inquires.

“I’m sure they do. Isabela could you please check?” Mera asks the rogue.

“Sure, sweet thing.” Isabela answers before slipping from the room.

In ten minutes Mera has the Warden-Commander and her people situated in one of The Hanged Man’s larger rooms. Then, after giving her directions on how to find the Hawke Estate, Mera leaves the Wardens to get some sleep, reassured by Varric that the staff of the Hanged Man will see to all their needs. 

The dark Hightown streets are quiet and crime free, for the moment, so she takes a chance and stretches out her fingers towards Fenris’ hand once they’re away from the tavern. Her heart squeezes when his fingers answer; their hands staying entwined the rest of the quiet walk home. Since resuming their relationship, Mera had been being extremely careful to not pressure Fenris in any way, letting him lead and set their boundaries, despite her heart wanting to never let him go. 

Once home, Mera slips into the front hall and is glad to see that neither Bodahn or Orana stayed up waiting for her. Doug curls up happily on the rug in front of the fire as she makes her way on tip toes to her room.

It’s not until her bedroom door is firmly shut that Fenris finally speaks. 

“She was not what I was expecting.” He says.

“I’m assuming you’re talking about Warden-Commander Vaelyn?” Mera says.

“Yes.” Fenris answers. 

“I know what you mean. She wasn’t exactly what I expected either.”

Mera stays in thoughtful silence as she washes her face in the ewer on her nightstand and finishes changing into her night-clothes. Fenris stows his sword under the edge of her bed and then climbs under the sheets after carefully peeling out of his armor, and cleaning up as well. Once she is done washing up, Mera joins him, laying her head on his chest gently and wrapping an arm around his middle, careful that each touch is gentle and made with care. His voice rumbles up from his chest, tickling her ear. 

“I knew that she is a mage, as the stories have mentioned that. And also that she too is an elf. But I had no idea that she would be so....”

“Normal?” Mera guesses.

“That isn’t exactly it. I expected her to lord her magic and power over people like a magister does. However, from what we have seen tonight, that isn’t how she portrays herself. She is certainly in command, but it is a command born out of respect, not fear.” Fenris replies.

“Hmm... I’m still trying to understand how she fights so well with those swords. Daggers wouldn’t surprise me, but two swords? I couldn’t handle two longswords at a time and I’m taller than her.... it’s impressive but mind boggling.” Mera says.

“She handles them well, and is very effective fighting with them. I will be interested to see her fight more.” 

“Do I hear a hint of respect in your voice, Fenris?”

Mera lifts her head off of his chest to look at his face, firelight illuminating only half of it. He frowns at her and then lets out a frustrated sigh, tinted with resignation.

“Yes, I’ll admit it. She may be a mage, but she is obviously more than that. All the stories about her must have at least some truth in them, and not all be lies. If she’s done even half of the things they say she has, then she has done much to earn my respect.” He concedes.

“Andraste's knickers. Hard to believe you’re the same mage hating warrior I met all those years ago.” A soft giggle follows her words. 

Fenris’ only answer is to snort and close his eyes. Mera lowers her head back to his chest and focuses on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It’s a rare treat to have him to hold in her own bed, as most nights he stays at his mansion. 

After her mother’s death, Fenris had started showing up most mornings to have breakfast with her. Those first few weeks he’d had to literally drag her from bed. He’d make sure she ate, then let her slink back to her room. Even looking back now, she can’t remember individual days, just one big long period of pain and darkness. Fenris had made sure to check on her every day. Later on she found out that he’d actually teamed up with her other friends to keep her duties in order. They’d patrolled the streets and kept order in the city, making it seem as if Kirkwall’s Champion was still interested in the city, and not, in fact, an emotional wreck, curled up in a ball on her bed, hiding from the world. Aveline, Donnic and Varric had played interference and kept well wishers from disturbing her until she was ready. 

Some of the things that had started during that horrible time stuck, and had become traditions. Fenris still shows up for breakfast most mornings (if he hasn’t already spent the night), sometimes even doing the cooking. Once a month all of Mera’s friends show up for Sunday dinner. The dinners are never dull, and Mera loves the chaos of it, as you never know what is going to come up in the conversation. One night all they talked about was how artists get the tiny ships in bottles, another night there was a massive argument about what a large group of deepstalkers is called. 

Only one person is conspicuous by his absence from those gatherings. Carver never writes and never visits. Mera sometimes wonders if she imagined him showing up at Mother’s funeral. She tried visiting him a couple of times but was always told he was unavailable. She’d stopped sending letters last year, but still sends a small gift on his birthday, because that’s what Bethany and Mother would have wanted her to do. 

“Stop it.”

Fenris’ sleepy growl startles Mera.

“What?”

“You’re thinking about your brother again...there is no point in making yourself miserable.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Really? Because you only tense like that while chewing on your lip, when you’re thinking about him. I must have been mistaken.” The last sentence is punctuated with a snort of disbelief. 

Mera forces her body to relax and releases her lower lip from between her teeth before letting out a small sigh as she forces her brain to think of other things. 

“That’s better. Get some sleep.” Fenris says softly. 

Mera lets her eyelids drift shut and finally lets herself sink into sleep, the last thing she feels is Fenris shifting so he can wrap an arm around her, that movement instantly allows her to fall asleep, as if just his arm can keep her safe through anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Oghren likes to read the gossip columns while sipping mulled wine by the fire when off-duty at Vigil's Keep.
> 
> 2\. Lyn is demisexual and oblivious to most attempts of flirting people try (this is a flaw of mine too).
> 
> 3\. I will happily write about Fenris and Mera caring about each other and showing it in thoughtful ways for the rest of my life (and if you want to read more I recommend checking out some of my other fics here).


	4. Chapter 4

“Rise and shine, boss.” The gravelly words chase away the last remnants of sleep she’d been clinging to. 

Vaelyn cracks open an eyelid to find Oghren standing over her with a steaming mug of something that smells like bad coffee.

“Ugh, get that foul brew away from me. You know I cannot stand the stuff!” She grumbles.

The dwarf chuckles at her and moves to the other side of the room where Alburt and Arithra are in the process of pulling on the last of their armor. Lyn throws back the covers and makes a frustrated noise as her feet touch cold floorboards. Oh what she’d give for a nice hot bath right about now. By the time she’s up, dressed in her light drakescale armor, leaving her heavy plate locked in a trunk, and feeling somewhat presentable, the others seem more than ready to leave. 

Lyn notices that Alburt is looking uneasy and gives him her best reassuring smile, being in a city always makes him uncomfortable. There were plenty of others she could have brought with her on this errand, but in the end, she’d chosen Alburt and Arithra because she has a soft spot for them. She’d recruited Arithra from the Circle in Ferelden. An extremely bright young woman with a talent for irritating her teachers, reminding Lyn of herself when she was younger. Arithra had been eager to join the Wardens and had only requested help finding her family before officially becoming a Warden. 

It had taken Lyn a lot of effort, but eventually they had found Arithra’s mother dying in Denerim’s Alienage from a wasting sickness. Despite their best efforts to heal her, Arithra’s mother died soon after they’d been reunited. Lyn was surprised to find that the young mage was half Dalish and that she had an older half brother who was all Dalish. Alburt had been working for the Blackstone Irregulars in an attempt to earn money to pay for a better doctor for his mother. Lyn had helped the siblings bury their mother and had not been terribly surprised when Alburt had asked to join the Wardens as well. Both had survived the Joining and after spent some time learning how to fight the darkspawn in the deep roads under the command of one of her best senior Wardens, Nathaniel Howe. Sigrun had managed their training after that, teaching them additional tricks that could come in handy when working from the shadows. The pair now go most places with Lyn, as close to bodyguards as she will allow. 

If you look closely at the siblings, it is easy to see that both have the same shade of light blond hair, the same green eyes, a similar nose, otherwise however they are much different. Arithra is taller than her brother by an inch or two, with a rounder face and skin a few shades paler from her early life being spent in the tower. Alburt’s Elgar’nan vallaslin makes it very obvious that he spent a large part of his life with the Dalish, and his pointed ears contrast his sister’s rounded ones. Neither sibling talks much, which suits Lyn just fine. Oghren occasionally jokes around and calls Lyn their “auntie”, but then shuts up when Lyn gently whacks him over the head with whatever book she is holding at the time.

“So where to first, boss?” Oghren asks.

“Hawke’s Estate, I suppose. She said she had that friend who might be able to help. I’d like to keep this as quiet as possible, for as long as possible.” Vaelyn replies as they leave the Hanged Man.

“Right. You have any idea where we’re going?” Oghren says, eyes scanning all the alleyways and streets scattered around them.

“Yes, I memorized a map of the city.” Vaelyn replies as she continues leading her group through Lowtown.

“If we get lost in this stinking city....” The dwarf mutters under his breath. 

Vaelyn throws a quelling look over her shoulder, which stops Oghren from continuing his complaints. Alburt and Arithra follow along, amused expressions on their faces.


	5. Chapter 5

A hard knock at the front door sends Doug into a barking frenzy and Bodahn into action. Mera was enjoying a breakfast of toast, fresh fruit, and some bacon, at the kitchen table while looking over the newest batch of invitations sent to the infamous Champion of Kirkwall. A great deal of commotion, and what sounds like an excited cry from Bodahn, drifts through the doorway, as she finishes a bite of toast. 

“Must be the Warden-Commander. Didn’t Bodahn say once that he knew her?” Fenris speculates, a piece of apple butter covered toast in his hand.

Looking up from an invitation to some stupid sounding hunt in Orlais, Mera gives Fenris a look that clearly says “I don’t remember” and then goes back to trying to decipher the fancy script on the bright orange card in her hand. Fenris watches the doorway while eating his toast. He’s not terribly surprised by Mera’s apparent lack of interest. She never was a morning person to begin with, and that hadn’t changed at all in all the years he’d known her. Leandra had always told him that there was no point in trying to talk to her eldest child in the mornings unless you came bearing hot tea and something covered in butter.

“Mistress Hawke! You have visitors!” Bodahn calls, voice carrying through the house.

“Bring them into the kitchen Bodahn.” Mera answers somewhat automatically.

A few minutes later, Bodahn ushers Vaelyn and the rest of her party into the kitchen with nervous hand movements. Vaelyn gives the anxious dwarf a warm smile in an obvious attempt to calm him.

“How’s Sandal, Bodahn?” She asks.

“Good as ever, Commander! Good as ever.”

“That’s wonderful to hear.”

An awkward silence fills the room, Bodahn looks helplessly in Mera’s direction. Having only gotten about five hours of sleep, Mera is having a hard time feeling like doing anything, let alone starting a serious conversation with the Warden-Commander, but she takes pity on Bodahn.

“Thank you for showing our guests in, Bodahn. I’ve got it covered from here.” A yawn leaves her mouth as she flaps a hand in a lazy dismissal. She’d never wanted servants, but her mother had guilted her into hiring Bodhan when she’d found out the merchant and his son had fallen on hard times due to the blight. She never actually gave him any orders, but that hadn’t stopped Bodahn from throwing himself into the job. 

“Thank you, Mistress. Just yell if you need me.” Bodahn says, then quickly exits, leaving Mera in charge of their guests.

“Have a seat Warden-Commander. There’s a pot of tea on the table, food on the counter, if you and your companions are hungry.” Mera offers.

“Thank you Champion, you’re very kind to share your breakfast with us. I hope we haven’t arrived too early.” Vaelyn says.

Dressed in dusty light drakescale armor that fits well but lacks the intimidation factor of the plate armor she’d worn the night before, Mera notes the Warden looks less imposing than before. Vaelyn and her companions now look like any band of bodyguards or mercenaries for hire that could be found in most larger cities, which tells Mera that they clearly planned to be in the city for a while. 

“Call me Hawke, and don’t worry, I’m used to people showing up at all hours. One of the perks of the job, you could say.” Says Mera. 

“Alright, but if I have to call you Hawke you should call me Vaelyn.” 

“Fair enough.”

Mera finishes reading all the invitations while the Wardens take advantage of the offered food. In the light of day, Mera finds that Vaelyn doesn’t look much different. The Hero of Ferelden seems to be within a few years of her own age, despite the grey strands scattered in her hair that made her seem older at first glance. Whispered words catch her ear, and she’s surprised to find that the two archers from the night before are speaking elvhen quietly to each other, even though one of them seemed originally to be human, due to the ears, but with the better lighting of the morning, Mera can now see the similarities between the two which gives her the impression that they’re actually family. Merrill would know what they are saying, but she rarely leaves her house these days. Maybe the new arrivals could coax her away from that damned mirror for a while? Mera files that potentially useful thought away for later.

“So where is this friend of yours located? Is he in the city?” Vaelyn asks, interrupting Mera’s train of thought.

Mera switches her gaze from the pair of archers to Vaelyn.

“He’s in the under-city, known as Darktown. The sewers beneath this city house more people than rats.”

“I’ve heard of Darktown. If you don’t mind, I’d like to leave some of my party here, as too big of a group might draw too much attention down there.”

“I don’t mind at all, as I was going to suggest that anyways.”

“Good. Alburt and Arithra, you two will stay here then.”

“Aye, Commander.” The two answer, in union. 

Hawke muses that It will certainly be interesting to see what Vaelyn’s reaction to the undercity will be. Mera had done her best to funnel money and food down there, but it still is a place full of despair, desperate people, and a damp loneliness that you could feel in your bones some days. Plus there is always too many shadows for the corrupt and evil to hide in down there.

“Well it’s settled then. Fenris, will you be coming?” Mera asks as she shoves her correspondence to the side.

“If you don’t need me, Hawke, I’d rather not. I have some things of my own to attend to.”

Mera tries not to feel a touch disappointed, but doesn’t succeed. Everything seems to be better when Fenris is nearby, even though she knows he has his own life to manage, she can’t help but feel a bit at a loss when he leaves her to take care of his own things. Carver had always said she was too clingy. Determined not to be a burden, she gives him a bright smile, shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly, and keeps her thoughts to herself.

So she says, “No problem” and stuffs a piece of apple into her mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my headcanon is that Hawke struggles with depression and other mental health issues, because that's a ton of trauma and responsibility on one person for their whole life. If you want better insight into how Mera Hawke's poor brain works, please check out **Mera's Mask**.   
> Dealing with all that would also explain why Hawke might miss the warning signs with Anders and his intentions. As well as the other stuff going on with their companions.   
> I have a lot of feelings about this.... ^_^;;;


	6. Chapter 6

“So, I couldn’t help but notice that you have a mabari too.”

Vaelyn hates small talk but the silence is killing her. They’d been walking for the last ten minutes in a semi-tense quiet. The two hounds forging ahead, while Oghren, Lyn and Mera walk together.

“Yes, Douglas has been with my family since he was a puppy. He was supposed to be my mother’s dog but he ended up bonding with me instead. He helped us escape Lothering during the blight.” Mera answers.

“Ah, I see. Dane’s been with me since Ostagar.” 

The mention of that place sends a chill of old pain up Mera's spine, she shoves that down, and then changes the subject. 

“We’re almost there. Let me do the talking, as the Wardens are a bit of a touchy subject with my friend.”

“Lovely.” Vaelyn says, a bit sarcastically. 

“Don’t take it too personally, as in all honesty, most topics are a touchy subject with him these days.” Mera warns.

The truth is that Mera isn’t sure how Anders is going to react to seeing Grey Wardens. He’d been friends with Mera for quite a while now and still wouldn’t really tell her anything about his life before Kirkwall. It annoyed Mera, but she wasn’t going to push it when Justice was always simmering just below the surface. Mera had learned a long time ago that Anders would tell her more about himself when he was ready, and no sooner. Her relationship with Fenris had cost her some of Ander's openness, as well, which only made her frustrated in her own right. 

It only takes them a few more minutes of walking before they end up on the doorstep of Anders’ clinic. Mera opens one of the doors and pokes her head in cautiously. No patients seem to be waiting and both examination tables are empty. Anders lifts his head from the book on his desk and gives Mera a surprised smile upon recognizing her. 

“Hello Hawke, what brings you down here?” He asks.

“Oh you know, the usual. Someone needs some help and I thought you might be just the person to assist. You know me, I can never turn anybody with a sad story away. You have a minute to talk with her?” She replies.

“Sure, bring her in.” His attention quickly returns to the parchment before him, eager to finish so he can help Hawke.

Mera steps back out, and waves for Lyn and Oghren to follow her into the clinic. Anders has his back to them, while he stuffs papers into the book he’d been looking at. 

“Wow, look at all of those feathers! Never thought I’d see that much bird fluff on someone’s shoulders again! Boss, doesn’t he remind you of....”

Oghren’s commentary dies off as Anders suddenly tenses, then spins around and looks at the two people standing next to Mera. He freezes, his expression a mixture of fear, anger, and sadness. Mera glances from Anders to Vaelyn and feels the bottom drop out of her stomach when the Warden-Commander speaks.

“Anders?” The name slips from Lyn’s mouth full of disbelief and shock.

Lyn cannot believe her eyes, of all the people she thought she’d meet in Kirkwall, he was certainly not one of them. He’s a little more gaunt than he’d been the last time she’d seen him, but otherwise seems to be in good health. Lyn wants to shout with joy at finding her old friend alive, to run up to him and hug him soundly, her eyes threaten to tear up as the wave of emotions hits. She had unconsciously started to step towards him, but the look in his eyes stops her as soon as she starts to move.

“Finally come to drag me back, Commander?” His voice is eerily cold, edged with something that crackles with power ready to be unleashed.

“What? Drag you back? What are you talking about, Anders? I’m just happy to see you in one piece!” She answers with honest bewilderment, clearly surprised by his accusation.

Confusion flickers across his face, Lyn’s response is not what he’d expected, but it quickly returns to a look of deep anger.

“I’m talking about the Wardens betraying me to the templars. I trusted you and the Order, and all it got me was new jailers.” He says accusingly.

Mera takes a step back, not wanting to get stuck between the angry apostate, and his former Commander. Vaelyn looks shocked at first, but the shock bleeds away into a cold mask, free of emotion. Somehow this is a far more unsettling expression than Anders' anger, to Mera. 

“I never did such a thing, and you, of all people, should know that I would never send the templars for you. I cannot believe you would even accuse me of such, after everything I did for you.” Vaelyn states with certainty. 

“Lies!” The energy in the back of his throat adds extra weight to the anger in that single word.

“You see here, you worthless nug-humper! Lyn had nothing to do with those sodding templars! Of all the stupid crap you’ve come up with, this takes the sodding cake!” Oghren cuts in, coming to the defense of Vaelyn.

Ander’s anger seems to be bordering on rage now, and it’s focus has been transferred from Vaelyn to the red haired dwarf who had stormed to his Commander's side.

“Silence Oghren! You would do anything to protect her, so why should I believe you?” Anders asks.

“Because she spent a whole blighted year searching for you, hoping that the templars hadn’t finished the job they’d tried to start when she recruited you!” Oghren answers, angrily. 

“If she cared so much then why did she let them take Pounce away?” 

“I did not. When I found out they made you get rid of Pounce I was furious. I gave you that cat.” Vaelyn answers.

Mera steps farther back as Lyn hurls her eerily cold words at Anders. All the anger mixed with familiarity makes her feel like she’s stuck again in the same room with Carver and her father during one of their fights back in Lothering. 

“What about Rolan? Wasn’t he supposed to be my keeper? Isn’t that why you had him join the Wardens?” Anders counters. 

“If I thought you needed a keeper, would I have left you in charge of the defenses of the Vigil with Oghren during the siege? Rolan was just another Warden. I accepted him into the Order thinking that his templar skills would be useful against the remaining Disciples. And you and I both know that pairing a templar with a mage in battle is a common and successful tactic. I’ve fought with our templar trained Wardens countless times.”

With every firm word from Vaelyn, Anders seems to deflate a little bit. What really impresses Mera is Vaelyn’s ability to keep almost all emotion out of her voice, making every word sound like a cold hard fact, rather than an opinion or belief. It seems obvious to Mera that the Warden-Commander isn’t lying, but then, Mera’s better than most at reading people.

“But the templars.... You weren’t there, and I was certain it was to make it easier for them to retrieve me.” Anders argues, a little more weakly now.

“Anders, I would never let the templars take a mage from my ranks. I don’t give a sod-all for the Chantry, or their laws. Just ask anyone, it still causes King Alistair problems. I had duties to take care of, and they took advantage of my absence, that was all.”

The rage completely disappears from Anders' face as Vaelyn’s words sink into his brain. He seems to shrink a little as the urge to fight seeps from his body, his shoulders drooping tiredly. Vaelyn lets her tone soften a little as she steps closer to the haggard looking mage. 

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to stop them, Anders. So very, very sorry. If it’s any consolation, when I found out what happened to Pounce, I knocked some heads together and then went and got him. He lives half the year at the Vigil and the other half at the palace in Denerim. He has everyone wrapped around his little paw and they feed him far too much. He’s grown quite fat and spoiled.”

Anders manages to hold it together until Lyn mentions Pounce. When Lyn sees his face begin to crumple, she quickly steps forward with arms open. Mera is shocked to see that Anders lets himself be hugged, and even hugs the elf back, a strangled sob escaping him as he does so. A muffled “thank you” can be heard as Anders pulls himself back together when they’re done embracing. 

“Well then, I guess it’s safe to say that you two know each other.” Mera quips to break the tension, after she realizes she has been holding her breath, ready for a completely different end to their argument.

“Heh, you have no idea lady. The shit the boss went through for recruiting him! And then when he disappeared with nothing but a bunch of bodies and a burning forest left behind... she said he must have been attacked and that it was the templars’ fault! Oh boy, was the Chantry mad. The boss straight up almost went to war with them!” The dwarf says, recalling the past.

Mera looks down at Oghren and gives him a skeptical look. The dwarf gives her a big smile and chuckles.

“Oh aye, I know how mad it sounds, but it’s true. I think the only thing the Chantry in Ferelden fears more than _their_ Maker, is the wrath of the Warden-Commander. She made a lot of friends in high places during the blight. A lot of people owe her their lives, and she’s not afraid of cashing in favors when needed.”

Vaelyn interrupts before her friend can continue, “That’s enough Oghren. Go guard the doors and keep anyone from listening in.”

“Bah, fine. Not like I wanted to be part of that conversation anyway. You coming with, mutt?” 

“ _Woof!_ ” replies Dane, with a tail wag for good measure.

Mera watches as the dwarf steps outside with Lyn’s hound following at his heels. After a moment the door shuts and she’s left alone with the Warden-Commander, Anders, and her faithful (and napping), Doug. 

Vaelyn waits for Anders to finish settling himself before speaking, “The reason I’m here is I got a note from a friend asking for help. After the blight she was offered a position as an enchanter at the Circle in Ostwick. She was happy there, and we exchanged regular letters for years. Then, last year, things changed. She was asked to transfer to the Circle here in Kirkwall, supposedly they needed her to teach creation magic. Her letters dwindled and then stopped completely. After months of silence, a note made its way to me through some back channels. I’ve been hearing the rumors about your problems here, and I’m worried she somehow got caught in the middle of the conflict between your Knight-Commander and First Enchanter.”

“It’s Beth, isn’t it.” Anders asks as he looks at Lyn, a sad expression on his face, as he mentions their mutual friend, sending a chill through her heart at his tone of finality. 

“Yes, and by that look on your face, I’m guessing things are even worse here then I had feared.” Vaelyn replies.

Mera answers for him, “They’re certainly not a picnic. Meredith and Orsino have been fighting like an old married couple for years now. Grand Cleric Elthina won’t step in and help, and to make matters worse the city is still without a Viscount.”

Lyn gives Hawke one of her best raised eyebrow looks before shaking her head at Anders.

“Well I see where your sense of humor went. Obviously this woman has it now.”

Mera can’t help but laugh as Anders looks wounded in response to Lyn’s comment. 

“My sense of humor is still my own, it’s just that Justice keeps it from showing all that much.”

As soon as Justice’s name leaves Anders’ lips he freezes, realizing his mistake. He’d gotten so used to Mera and the others knowing about his condition that he’d forgotten Vaelyn didn’t know. With an audible gulp he tries to meet the elf’s gaze, but can’t quite manage it. 

The air around Vaelyn stills, as a chill emanates from her like you would feel right before a storm strikes, her face suddenly seems to be made of stone, as her grey eyes seem to flash as she steps up close to the blond apostate, stopping only once they are practically touching.

“Uh oh.” Mera says quietly, unable to help herself.

“ _Justice_ , Anders? Perhaps you should tell me exactly what is going on. **_Now_**.”

Mera is suddenly wishing for a snack and a comfy place to sit, always one to enjoy other people’s drama, instead she contents herself with sitting on the edge of the examination table while idly petting Doug’s head. Normally when confronted in such a way Anders would become big and intimidating, but in this case the short elven woman seems to be the big and scary one. Vaelyn just keeps standing there, in Anders’ face, looking up her nose, waiting for his reply. Anders starts to answer and even gets as far as opening his mouth before chickening out, and snapping it shut again. Seconds lengthen into minutes and still the elf doesn’t move, her chin stuck out in dogged determination. Mera can guess that Vaelyn’s gaze must feel like hot iron pokers boring into Anders’ brain, poor bastard, she would fight the Arishok again rather than switch places with him at this moment.

“Justice and I are one. He wished to help me fight the injustice against mages. I agreed to let him inhabit my body.”

Anders’ voice is barely more than a whisper at first, but strengthens as he continues to speak, conviction evident in every word. Mera can’t quite tell whether the Warden-Commander is angry or not, as her face doesn’t seem to alter much as Anders confesses. Vaelyn looks him in the eyes once more before turning away, and walking over to the desk. She turns her back to the others and braces her hands on the desktop, tension evident in the very way she stands. The continuing silence quickly becomes deafening, and Mera watches as Anders stays still, only occasionally shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Mera is tempted to break the silence with one of her witty comments, but the little voice in the back of her mind makes her keep her tongue still. 

“You know, I always knew you’d take a dangerous path, but I never dreamed you’d be so sodding foolish. Anders, what have you done to yourself? And what have you done to Justice?” Vaelyn’s words cut through the air.

Her voice is full of emotion, the most prominent one being sadness. Anders had been expecting anger, or even fear, from Vaelyn, but not this quiet sort of hurt. He knew how to defend himself from the first two, but not this. Even Justice seems to feel her disappointment. They’d both served under Vaelyn, and she had never been just their Commander, she’d been a dear friend and the closest thing Anders had to family in a long time. Justice had greatly enjoyed his friendship with her as well. That’s why, if he was honest with himself, he’d never completely believed that she’d turned him over to the templars. 

His reply comes slowly,

“I did what I had to. We both agreed that with his help I could make a difference. You came from the Circle, you were dragged away from your family like I was. Wouldn’t you do anything to stop any young mage from having to go through that horror as well? What about the Harrowing? How many friends did we lose to that barbaric practice? Will you just continue to stand by and let our people continue to be persecuted?”

As Anders lets the last sentence leave his mouth, Vaelyn spins around and levels an angry finger at him. 

“Don’t you dare pretend to know what I have and haven’t done for the mages. You only know what I chose to tell you. I do not need to justify myself and my actions to you. Especially you. You ran, Anders, just like you always have. You ran and left me to clean up another one of your messes. Have you really changed into a paragon of mage freedom? Or am I right in guessing that Hawke is now cleaning up your messes in my place?" She says, clearly angry and hurt.

Mera visibly winces in sympathy as Vaelyn’s accusation flies across the room, and she really has no intention of coming between them, especially as Vaelyn has only known her for less than a day and seems to have picked up on the part of Mera’s relationship with Anders that Mera had been avoiding. Fenris had even argued the same point once, saying the only reason Anders was her friend was because she had the power to protect him and clean up the apostate’s problems. Those sentiments aren't completely fair, as the situation has always been a lot more complicated than that, but still the ring of truth is there, and that is why Mera had opted for just avoiding the topic all together.

“That’s not true! Hawke is my friend-” Anders interjects but isn’t allowed to finish.

“Oh no you don’t, I’m not done yet. It is not your turn to speak.”

Vaelyn steps forward, lowering her hand but squaring her shoulders. Anders steps back in response, alarm evident in his eyes. He’s never seen this side of the elf before. He’d heard Oghren tell stories about the true depths of her temper, Beth had even mentioned it a long time ago, but he hadn’t entirely believed them.

“If you think back through that cloudy memory of yours, you’ll remember me constantly telling anyone who wished to listen that the way the Circle handles mages needs to change. Who was about to be condemned for trying to help an apprentice escape the tower rather than be made tranquil? Who was the first person to get a dwarf admission into the Circle’s ranks? Who stood up to the templars and even had the King step in, in order to keep them from cutting your insolent head from your neck? Who asked for the Circle to be freed from the Chantry’s rule?”

With each question, Anders flinches as if Lyn’s words are physically lashing at him. A pained look covers his face but it doesn’t stop Lyn from continuing her tirade. Mera would have never thought that someone could get Anders to look so much like a scolded child. 

“Who, Anders? Who did all that and so much more?” Vaelyn lets the final words leave her lips in a roar, and waits for Anders to answer her, grey eyes flashing with barely restrained rage. 

“You.” Anders answers, voice barely a whisper. 

He avoids meeting Lyn’s eyes again, which seems to irritate her even more. 

“What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you...”

Lyn’s expression narrows as she moves her gaze to intercept Anders’. 

“You. You did those things... I’m sorry, Lyn.”

“You’re damn right you are sorry! I sacrificed more than you could ever know in order to protect my country, and my people, and I’m not just talking about elves or mages. Those are just the things publicly known, I did a lot of things that could have gotten me in trouble when I was a young mage, let alone after I joined the Order. Just because you chose to become possessed by a spirit from the fade does not make you more right than anyone else. Do you think Justice was the first spirit to notice the way mages are treated?”

Vaelyn’s question catches both Mera and Anders by surprise, and their faces show it. Lyn takes note of their expressions and throws her hands up in the air in an act of frustration.

“That’s right, you heard me. I’ve talked to many spirits over the years. I’ve also talked to plenty of demons, a few ghosts, rhyming trees, and more than one possessed statue. Anders is also not the first mage I’ve known who’s been possessed by a friendly spirit.”

“I’m not?”

“Of course not, you idiot. Did you never pay attention to anything I said? Andraste’s ass! A spirit of Faith possessed Wynne, you do remember her, right? That spirit saved her from a demon and went on to help her save my life more than once.”

Lyn takes a deep breath and then continues, “Also there is more to magic than the Chantry or the Circle will ever tell you, or know. I’ve spent most of my life trying to reclaim my people’s knowledge, as well as the suppressed and forgotten ways of other cultures the Chantry has done their best to eradicate.”

Neither Anders or Mera seem to have anything to say, causing Vaelyn to let out a sigh and rub a throbbing temple with the knuckles of her right hand. Her head hurts, partially because she hasn’t had a decent night’s sleep in two weeks. In this mood she would happily berate Anders for the rest of the day, but it wouldn’t change anything. 

“Look, if you can help find Beth, that would be great. If you can’t, I’ll take care of things on my own. When you left, I stopped being your Commander and I will not force you to do anything against your will.” She says, words ringing out with finality.

Anders looks closely at his hands, giving himself a moment to collect, then speaks, “I’ll talk to my contacts and see what I can do.”

“Thank you. But I want to be clear about something. I am not here in **any** official capacity. Wardens are supposed to stay out of politics. I am here on my own time, to help my friend, nothing more. As far as anyone knows I am not here, and I’d like it to stay that way.”

“I understand.”

Lyn gives Anders a nod and turns her attention to Mera.

“Hawke, I have a few other things to take care of, including finding somewhere to take a bath. If you don’t mind, I’m going to take myself off and leave you here.”

“No problem. Why don’t you meet me back at the estate for dinner? I’m sure Orana will whip up something delicious for us.”

“Alright, see you then.”

Lyn turns away, and doesn’t look back, walking out the door but making sure to shut it behind her. Mera waits a few moments before turning to give Anders an expectant look. Anders looks back at her with a lingering sadness. He can’t help but feel a bit ashamed of himself. He never expected to see Vaelyn again, let alone have her tear him down like that, and in front of Hawke to boot. 

Mera breaks the awkward silence,  
“So apparently you’ve skipped telling me a lot about your past. You never told me that the Hero of Ferelden saved you from templars, or that she was the one who gave you your cat. Starting to regret not telling me now?”

Anders avoids eye contact and fidgets with a loose thread on the hem of his coat. Mera crosses her arms and waits. 

“I’m sorry Hawke. It just didn’t seem relevant until now. I left that life behind me when I left Ferelden, and the Order.”

Anders sneaks a peek at his friend and is once again reminded of how much he cares for her. He had liked her the moment she’d walked into his clinic all those years ago. He’d tried every trick he knew to get her attention romantically, but she had never let their relationship progress further than friendship. And then that damned mage hating elf had shown up. Mera had fallen for his brooding and fancy tattoos like an Orlesian for fancy parties, or so he liked to tell his pride, even though deep down he knew better. The worst had been when Fenris had left her, Anders had shown up to comfort her and she’d still not acknowledged that Anders was willing to do anything she asked of him. No, she’d stayed alone, and waited for the escaped slave. And now they were back together, and Anders felt more alone than ever.

“Well, what’s done is done now. No need to rehash it. Just see what you can find out about this mage, Beth, and then let me know tonight at dinner. You better not start any fights tonight, or I’ll make you babysit Merrill next time she leaves her house. Or even worse, I will tell Sebastian you want to start studying the Chant of Light with him.” Mera threatens good naturedly, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

Anders gives Mera a small smile in response, which makes her smile back, the skin around her bright blue eyes crinkling briefly. She gives him a saucy wink, and then makes her way toward the exit with Douglas following. Before slipping out the door, Mera gives Anders a goodbye wave. He lifts a hand to return her wave, but she’s already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, this one gives me a lot of feels. I love Anders, please don't get me wrong. But he did some dumb shit, and how he treats a female Hawke who romances Fenris is just not okay. Having trauma and mental health issues does not mean you get to be an asshole, or excuse asshole behavior. Anders deserved better from the writers in DA2, and thus, Vaelyn and myself will continue to hold him to a higher standard (as well as offer him hugs and emotional support). ^_~


	7. Chapter 7

“I couldn’t help but notice there were a lot of raised voices, and maybe catch a word or two, care to share, Lyn?” Oghren asks, using her nickname now that it is just the two of them (and her hound).

Vaelyn has to give Oghren some credit, he’d stayed silent for almost half an hour, even though she was sure that his curiosity had been eating away at him ever since they’d left the clinic. Lyn sighs and smiles tiredly at the dwarf, who probably knows her better than just about anyone these days. They’d been friends for a long time now, and even though they were an unlikely pair, they’d become family. Oghren had mellowed a little bit these last few years, he’d actually been taking care of himself too, and took time to visit Felsi and his daughter every couple of months. 

“I yelled at Anders… I’m not proud of it. I shouldn’t have let my anger take control like that. I’ll apologize next time I see him, I don’t know why he triggered me so badly.” She admits.

“I’m guessing that he’ll still help us, despite your temper tantrum.” Oghren teases.

“Yes, he’s going to get in touch with his contacts. And it wasn’t a tantrum…”

Oghren snorts and gives Lyn a “ _whatever you say_ ” look. The pair walk back to Hightown in companionable silence with Dane occasionally breaking the quiet with excited sniffing. It takes asking some helpful looking strangers, but Lyn finally finds what she’d been looking for and gets her long awaited bath at a bathhouse. With that settled, they hit the marketplace to browse and sell the few bits of loot they’d picked up on their way to Kirkwall. 

As they wander, Lyn listens carefully to all the gossip and takes note that most of the general populace seems to be talking about the mages or the templars, or both, and little else. She and Oghren seem to go mostly unnoticed, as she observes there are almost as many dwarves and elves as there are humans in this city, all busy doing business of various sorts. Upon the completion of her purchases, she gives Oghren a nod and they set off back towards Hawke’s estate in a roundabout way, exploring the alleyways, nooks, and crannies of the upper-city, as well as discovering a charming bakery that makes pastries that remind Lyn of times long ago.

Back at the estate, Alburt and Arithra have occupied themselves by raiding Hawke’s diverse library, and that is where their Commander finds them upon her return. Oghren declines looking at books in favor of resting in the courtyard, enjoying a moments peace in the sun while he pens a quick note to his daughter back in Orzammar. 

Lyn finds herself in the kitchen making herself some tea without really knowing how she’d gotten there, her brain too busy with everything going on. She’d startled the poor elven girl who works for Hawke by trying to start a conversation, and every time she was in the same room as Bodahn he insisted on doing everything for her, or asking her if she needed anything, so she was ashamed to admit that she was avoiding him for the time being. 

“Is there enough for two?” Mera’s voice cuts through the noise in Lyn’s head.  
Vaelyn nods then pours a second cup and pushes it across the table towards her host. Mera accepts the cup with a smile and sighs contentedly as the warm liquid hits her stomach. Lyn openly studies the human woman, something niggling at the back of her mind.

She’d started to have that itch of something familiar when she’d seen the portrait of the Champion’s mother. There was something about the eyes of both the painting and the woman across from her now that reminds her of someone. Feeling curious, and happy for a distraction, she decides to investigate.

“So, Hawke, tell me about yourself, I have to admit I’m curious about you.” Lyn says, keeping her tone light.

Mera sips her tea and considers her response a moment before speaking.

“Well, I’m the oldest out of three, or at least I was… I’m a mage, and I like to tease the nobles who used to sneer at me before I got rich, claimed the Amell estate, and saved all their asses from the qunari invasion.”

She finishes with another sip of her tea, her eyes on Vaelyn’s face.

“Amell?!” Lyn blurts out triumphantly; the name triggering the connection her brain had been searching for. 

Mera, taken a bit off guard, as that was not the reaction she’d expected, replies with a less sarcastic tone than before, 

“Yes, Amell, my mother’s family name.”

Vaelyn smiles as she takes a turn sipping at her tea, clearly pleased.

“Do you know the name Revka Amell, or Mariel Amell?” Lyn asks, hoping her instincts are correct. 

“Revka was my mother’s cousin, if I remember correctly. I don’t recall a Mariel Amell.” Mera replies, a bit confused yet still intrigued.

“Well, Mariel Amell is a daughter of Revka, and a friend of mine. You’ve seemed familiar to me, and I couldn’t place why.” Lyn explains.

Mera takes a deep breath and absorbs this new information. Family other than Uncle Gamlen and Carver? She wasn’t expecting that, she knew there was more Amells out there somewhere, but none had ever tried to make contact, so she hadn’t thought much about having any extended family. 

“You both smile with your eyes the same way, it is almost uncanny. Mariel and I both lived in the Circle at Kinloch Hold, she’d been there practically her whole life, and was a great friend to have when I was brought there, as I was found by the templars at a much later age than most of the young mages, which made fitting in tricky.” Vaelyn explains, cup of tea held tightly in her hands.

“Does she still live there, at the Circle?” Mera asks, curious to learn more. 

“Oh, Maker no!” Vaelyn replies, chuckling as if the mere thought was hilarious.

“She had always been a troublemaker, and after my attempt to have Kinloch Hold freed from the Chantry, I conscripted her into the Grey Wardens before she got into any more hot water.” 

“So she’s a Grey Warden now?” 

“Well, technically. I conscripted her but never had her officially become a full fledged Warden. Varel, my seneschal, and I found a loophole, Mariel is a sort of employee of the Ferelden Grey Wardens, an advisor of sorts, I’ve forgotten the official title, but she has the same protections as most members of the Order. She loves it, and she’s been extremely helpful, between making connections, and her concoctions. That woman can make any potion or grenade, and she’s a whizz at coming up with solutions to problems that seem unsolvable.” Lyn answers, evidently proud of her friend.

“Alright, I’m intrigued now, care to give me an example?” Mera asks.

“Sure. We asked her for something that would help aid Wardens when exploring the deep roads, and what she came up with was utterly diabolical.” 

Vaelyn pauses for emphasis before continuing. 

“She made a deepstalker lure grenade. It’s pure chaos! You toss it at an enemy and any deepstalker within half a mile comes running and they swarm the area in a complete frenzy. It’s terrifying and extremely effective. Not even darkspawn stand a chance.” 

“That is a horrifying image, but I can appreciate its usefulness. I guess I will have to meet this cousin of mine someday.”

The Warden and the Champion enjoy their tea as the afternoon progresses and only break up their chatting when Orana and Bodhan need the kitchen to prepare dinner.


	8. Chapter 8

“How do I look?” Vaelyn asks Oghren as she slowly spins around in her borrowed clothes. Dressed as a merchant of the highest class, she regards herself seriously, as so much hinges on this disguise. 

Oghren offers a grunt of approval, he was not a fan of the plan, and had said as much during dinner the night before. Anders had also objected to Lyn being the one to make contact in the Gallows, but both of them had been overruled by her and Hawke. 

Vaelyn slips a dirk inside her boot, and conceals a dagger in each sleeve, always prepared for things to go sideways. Arithra stands ready with a dashing hat, to complete her Commander’s outfit, the young mage herself dressed in more practical clothes that clearly mark her as some sort of assistant or clerk, with weapons also hidden upon her person. Lyn regards the hat skeptically, but pulls it on, and winces as it pinches her ears, hiding the telltale long tips from view. A glance at the battered mirror on the wall reassures her disguise is complete.

“That damn pirate was right, the hat pulls the whole thing together.”

\--

The Gallows is cold, in more than just the physical sense, causing Arithra and Vaelyn to exchange concerned looks as they step further into the courtyard. Mera notes their unease, she can’t blame them, the whole place reeks of despair and fear on a level that only those with magic in their blood can truly understand. 

The Champion walks boldly, as usual, towards the section of the Gallows where the vendors and merchants are, Varric and the disguised Wardens trailing behind her. She can feel the eyes of the templars on duty track her every move, the untouchable apostate. Some of the older templars are clearly hostile, but Mera is happy to note that the younger templars seem to not share their elders’ feelings, some curious, others carefully neutral. 

Mera stands guard, idly looking at the wares in one of the carts while Vaelyn makes contact with the young mage who has offered to help them. Anders had come through, knowing just who they needed to get in touch with in order to set up a line of communication with Beth inside the Circle. As Mera reads the label on a potion bottle she feels the hairs on the back of her neck prickle, warning her that someone is watching her closely. Careful to remain casual, Mera slowly turns around, seemingly bored of the contents of the cart. 

She spots him then, her brother, his gaze fixed on her intently, clearly wondering what she is doing in his territory. She hadn’t seen him since that night many months ago in the Hanged Man, and that night had clearly thrown her dear brother off, as his eyes lack their usual level of distaste for her. She winks at him jauntily, and gets a stern glare in response before he resumes wherever he’d been headed to in the first place. Carver clearly knows her too well, but her gut also tells her he won’t do anything to endanger his sister or her guests. 

“Messere Hawke, my business is complete.” Vaelyn’s voice cuts into Mera’s thoughts about her sibling, bringing her back to the task at hand. 

“Ah, yes, good, Messere, I will escort you back to Hightown right away.” The Champion replies, not missing a beat. 

They leave the Gallows as confidently as they entered, or so they appear. Mera notes that the Warden-Commander looks very somber as they make their way back to Hightown. 

\--

Once safely back at the Estate, Vaelyn tosses aside her fancy hat and begins pacing in front of the fireplace, mind clearly going over what she’d just learned. Arithra gives her Commander space and heads to the kitchen, where she finds her brother waiting with toast and tea at the ready. 

Mera watches Lyn pace for a while before clearing her throat loudly. Lyn stops her pacing and briefly makes eye contact in response. Mera takes this as permission to interrupt, and speaks, 

“So, I take it you learned something troubling?” 

“Yes. Beth has been locked in her room, as well as some of the other mages, under suspicions of plotting a rebellion or some nugshit, apparently the accusations are not consistent. Anders’ source conveyed she’s been locked up for weeks on half rations, in an attempt to get her to confess. Which is complete crap because Beth wouldn’t plot a damn thing, other than a midnight tryst, perhaps.” Vaelyn says, frustration evident from more than just her tone.


	9. Chapter 9

“I don’t like this, boss.” Oghren grumbles quietly. Vaelyn doesn’t answer, but her gut twists in agreement with his words. The air around them is thick with humidity and exactly the smells you would expect to find in a tunnel that had long been abandoned for anything other than smuggling and the like. The fingers of her right hand idly stroke the handle of Spellweaver, ready to draw it at any moment. The familiar thrum of lyrium and silverite blended together by ancient elven magic steadies her nerves. Despite their uneasiness, they continue on their way, eager to have this meeting done. Anders had been having trouble contacting the Mage Underground and had gone ahead to meet their contact, Mera accompanying him. 

The sound of anguished words hit Lyn like a punch to the chest just as she makes it to the cavern where their meeting is to take place. Reflexively she silently casts a barrier over herself and Oghren, as she looks carefully for Anders and Hawke. With her elven eyes already adjusted to the gloom, it only takes her a moment to find them, as well as what had caused Anders to cry out.   
A young looking elf, dressed in clothes that give the impression she was a messenger or servant, is pinned to the cavern wall by the blade of a sword plunged through her chest. The sword is easily identified as the blade of templar, every part of it not buried in it’s victim a little too clean in the half light, the templar sigil on the pommel shining bright. The Knight-Commander’s message ringing clear without having left any written words.

Mera’s hands are on Anders’ shoulders, gently but firmly holding him back as he grieves, blue light flickering in his tear filled eyes. 

Mera pleads with him in a desperate whisper, “We can’t touch her, I’m sorry. They can’t know we were here, all they have is suspicions but no proof. Anders, we need to move.” As she tries to make her friend move away. 

Vaelyn scans the area, certain the templars cannot be too far, as the blood still dripping from the victim tells just how recently her murder happened. Any emotion she feels is squashed, shoved away to be dealt with later, when they’re safe. 

Anders sags, taking a shuddering breath, blue light still flickering behind his eyes, and then he steps away, knowing Mera is right. He doesn’t say a word as they flee the area, Mera leading the way, taking extra caution to make sure they aren’t followed. No one speaks the whole return journey, each member focused on their own thoughts, and their safety. It is almost morning when they make it back to the clinic, finally certain they’re safe for the moment. 

Vaelyn expects Anders to blow up once the doors to the clinic are shut behind them, but instead he walks over to a crate near the smoldering coals of last night’s fire, and slumps into a sitting position. Mera’s mouth is set in a tense line as she makes herself busy, bringing the fire back to life and placing a kettle above it to heat water for tea. Oghren takes up residence near the doors, face solemn as he stands guard. Lyn paces as the water heats, thoughts spinning wildly as she tries to figure out their next step. 

Once the tea is made, ideas are shared, quietly debated, and then the silence returns, the murdered young woman, and all that means, on their minds. After an hour they give up for the time being, everyone in need of sleep and a bath. Lyn steps in front of Anders and wraps her arms around him, offering silent support while also sharing his grief. Surprise colors the healer’s face briefly, but then he lets loose a shuddering sigh and hugs her back tightly. The hug lasts many minutes, and when they part, Lyn rests a hand on Anders’ cheek for just a moment, as she speaks,

“We will figure this out. We all need sleep, and you need a bath, hugging you was like being embraced by a feather-clad bogfisher.” 

She winks at him after she has stepped away, clearly doing her best to lighten the mood and distract him. She gets a tired flicker of a smile in response, and a half hearted wave goodbye when she heads towards the doors. 

Once back at her rooms in the tavern, Vaelyn quickly begins writing a handful of missives, that she hands off to the Warden siblings once the letters are sealed and addressed. She watches them leave, and lets a sigh of resignation escape her lips. She’d not wanted to bring anyone else into this mess, but she had clearly underestimated just how bad things actually are in Kirkwall. It is time to call in some favors if she is going to get Beth out of this damned city alive. 

In the estate in Hightown, Mera is in a similar frame of mind, and determined to do the right thing, she writes a few notes of her own. Once Bodhan has left with them, she retreats to her room, the weight of her actions heavy on her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait, it's been written, but between moving and the holidays, I have been a bit overwhelmed. :/  
> Next chapter is one of my favs so far! One last proof-read and then I will be posting it as well. ^_^


	10. Chapter 10

King Alistair of Ferelden tosses and turns, sheets soaked with sweat, asleep in his bed in Denerim. In his dreams he’s back at Ostagar, the sound of the darkspawn’s drums making his pulse quicken and his mouth dry as he fights his way to the top of the tower of Ishal, to light the beacon, again. He’s had this dream a thousand times since that night, it always replays a little different each time, focusing on different fears of his in turn. Sometimes he sees his mentor, Duncan, ripped apart by hurlocks, other times he sees Cailan’s death, no matter what, there is always so much death. He’s tried not fighting, or just leaving the battle, but it always just starts over. This part of the fade always sucking him back into the battle that killed so many, their memories and spirits replaying their doom for eternity. His oath as a Grey Warden and his tainted blood forever tethering him to the place. 

Just as he is about to fall once more, the tower beacon lit for the thousandth time, something shifts, he can’t quite say what, but he feels almost hopeful as he grips his shield and braces for the ogre that is just topping the stairs. But before the creature can reach him it bellows in rage and pain, and that is when he sees her, sword and dagger buried in the creature’s back. It struggles to reach the elven fighter clinging to it’s back, but fails. She twists the blades and the ogre falls, nearly throwing her off. Alistair fights off the remaining darkspawn ghosts, and by the time they’ve all fallen she has freed her blades and cleaned them off, the habit unshakeable even in a dream. Alistair expects her to fade away and to wake up, but instead she pulls her helmet off and offers him a smile that makes his stomach fill with butterflies.

“This is not where I’d expected to find you, but my guide was certain, and here you are, reliving this disaster.” She says, tone playful, clearly trying to keep things light in the face of all the death surrounding them. 

“Lyn, how are you here? I mean, not that I’m not glad to see you, but I am dreaming? And this usually isn’t how this goes…” He asks, clearly unsure of what is happening, but nonetheless grateful for a better ending this time around. 

“I’m here because this was the safest way to get a message to you without being intercepted or spied on. I need your help.” she says as the smile leaves her face, replaced by the sober expression of someone facing a great challenge. 

“Of course. What do you need?” He says without hesitation.

“I need you to send someone you trust to Kirkwall to help get Beth out of the city. Things here are far worse than I’d imagined. If Anora is available she would be perfect, it needs to be someone who travels with an entourage so Beth can slip away with a group unnoticed.” 

Lyn pauses and drags a hand across her face, a gesture Alistair had seen her make only when she was in deep waters, so to speak. When she continues it is clear she is only contacting him as her original plan has already gone out the window.

“It can’t be just a random visit either, the Templar Commander here is extremely paranoid, and she’s got practically the whole city under her control. Whoever you send must have a legitimate reason to visit Kirkwall. I have allies in the City Guard, as well as Mera Hawke, the city’s Champion. So as long as we keep up appearances there should be no fallout for Anora, or Ferelden.” She says, tone clear, that she has thought this over carefully.

Alistair steps closer as she speaks, ending up within arms reach by the time she finishes outlining what he needs to do. She has only been gone for a few weeks, but her absence and knowing that she was potentially in danger had hit him harder than expected, so being near her again, even if it is only in his dreams, reassures him. 

“You’ve thought this through, which isn’t surprising. I will get on it first thing in the morning. When I have a plan in place, how should I get in touch with you?” He asks, resisting the urge to reach for her hands, his fingers missing the feeling of hers entwined in his; instead he is careful to keep his eyes locked on her own, keeping things mostly professional.

"You don’t. You go through the official channels, which means contacting the Kirkwall City Guard and the Seneschal in the Viscount’s Office to arrange the visit. Hawke’s allies will keep us informed.” 

Her tone is firm, and that’s when it hits Alistair, she’s trying to protect him. Any romantic inclinations he might have felt are instantly drowned by the wave of concern that washes over him. If Vaelyn is protecting him that means things are very bad indeed. 

“It will be taken care of, you can count on me, Lyn.” Alistair replies. 

She offers him a small smile that quirks the corner of her mouth, “I know Alistair, that’s why I came to you.”

Her body language shifts, and just for a moment, he thinks she might raise a hand towards his face, like the hundreds of times she’d done during their time fighting the blight, but she seems to remember how things have been for far too long, and lets it go. Alistair’s heart aches as she begins to pull away, as despite all the years that have passed, she still has so much power over it, even after all that has come before this moment. 

“I must go, morning is almost upon us. Thank you, Alistair. I don’t think I will ever be able to repay you if this gets Beth safe…” 

Alistair forgoes speaking, worried his voice might betray him by giving away how once again his heart longs for what once was. He merely nods and offers a wave as she departs his dream. 

In the morning, Alistair gets to work on the favor for Vaelyn, and immediately runs into problems. But he refuses to let minor complications stop him from getting this done, and starts working on his own backup plan. He will not let Lyn down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written before most of the others, it suddenly came to me months ago, and I love it so much. I hope you enjoyed it!   
> Next chapter will feature Lyn doing some leaping without looking first....


End file.
